


Siempre Cambiando, Nunca Cambiando

by Llwyden ferch Gyfrinach (Llwyden)



Category: Hotel California - Fandom
Genre: Chromatic Character, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Song - Freeform, surreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llwyden/pseuds/Llwyden%20ferch%20Gyfrinach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"...Plenty of room at the Hotel California<br/>Any time of year<br/>You can find it here..."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Siempre Cambiando, Nunca Cambiando

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vaznetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaznetti/gifts).



> “The people here have come for many reasons, I suppose; in search of fortune or quiet or a new start. But they are all searching for something.”
> 
> Excerpts from Gerardo de la Cruz, “Diary,” in _Letters and Writings of the Spanish in California, 1800 - 1900_ , ed. and trans. Kelly Ramirez (Sacramento: University of California Press, 1968), 125-132.

  


 _March 12_

 _My father will undoubtedly be furious with me when I abscond with three barrels of the rather fine Spanish wine he sent with me. He may consider it to be my fee, since he saw fit to give me so little an allowance for the trip from Veracruz to Santa Barbara. And nothing for after, that to have been the responsibility of my uncle._

 _The country and the seaside here are pretty enough, if far wetter than I am accustomed to. Yet if I had known, I should have ripped my introductory letter to shreds and made my own way about it. “Gerardo,” my father told me, “you will no longer be welcome in the towns and farms here; let me send you to my brother to people who will not know you.” To people who will not know him, he means - for if this was to be a new start for me, what point was there in informing my uncle of the scandal? My devoted father can hardly have been unaware of his sibling’s penchant for gossip. But what cares he for the welfare of one more son of my mother? His eldest he has, _mestizo_ or not, and his new _criolla_ wife and children; me, I am disposable._

 _So, tomorrow I will take Maricela, who is mine, and the wine, which will be, and see what I can make of Alta California on my own. I do not know what I will find, but it will not be whispers and stares and turned heads everywhere I go. I will be my own man, free of influence, and that will be enough._

  


I set out in the early morning dark, Maricela fresh under me and the mule plodding along with my cart of belongings and purloined wine. In the distance, the soldiers at the presidio might have glanced over me, but I saw no other living beings on my way from the city. We picked up speed on the highway to the next settlement; I had no desire to face my uncle’s bluster if he should catch us. I had no more than glanced at a map the night before; enough to know that there were missions and homesteads scattered far enough up and down the coast to give me a choice of places to settle. Places, it was to be hoped, where I could live my own life.

The first evening, I made it as far as the Estancia de San Francisco Xavier; the mission there was comfortable enough, but it was still too close to my family for my liking; I had determined I would go at least three days’ travel before stopping, and on a whim (or so it seemed at the time), I determined to head further away from the coast.

  


 _March 14_

 _The weather has made my travel decisions moot; the rain that started as a miserable drizzle quickly became sheets of water as we continued through the rocky passes. Despite bundling my hat and cloak around myself, I was soon wet and miserable. The mule was reluctant to move, and even Maricela was restive and unhappy. The forest last night was chilly, and I had hoped that once we were out of the foothills it would warm and improve. But after pulling the cart from the mud for the third time (I must check the left wheel before starting out again), when I spotted a small homestead some distance from the road, I threw up my hands and made for it._

 _The rancher and his household have been gracious; they have allowed me room in the barn for myself and the animals, and I have retired there and bedded down for a few hours’ sleep, as there is little else to do but wait, as much as it irks me. Perhaps it will relent in time for me to make further headway before nightfall._

  


I was wakened by the silence of the rain ceasing; outside, the clouds hid the sun, but the bright spot behind them suggested it was mid-afternoon. I readied Maricela and the mule again and determined to head off; having wasted half of the day, I determined to keep going, nighttime or not, until I had put a good distance behind me. After some negotiation with the rancher, I traded Maricela’s fine saddle for a lesser one and a tin lantern that should see me through, and I headed off. Mercifully, the clear weather held; though the rancher had informed me the wind from the desert could be hot and brutal even so early in the year, I found it refreshing after my previous day’s travel. Besides, I am from Nueva España; did he think the heat would deter me?

I was well on my way when a thin shaft of burning sunlight found its way between the clouds and fields, tinting everything with copper. Even as it set, the wind died down to a light breeze, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The clouds even parted enough to lend a bit of moonlight to my trail at the start. Soon, though, the moon set, and the feeble lantern was all I had left. I had a strong sense of being alone, and it came to me that I was without companions or servants or helpers for the first time in a very long while. I breathed deeply and smiled; there was a sweet scent in the air I could not quite identify, but the smell and the glint of starlight and the soft whisper of the sand told me that here, I could do anything that I wanted, and there was nobody to judge me for it. At that moment, I was free, and living for only myself, and if I died then, I would have died happy, I think.

I am uncertain for how long I travelled like that; it did not seem long at the time. At first, I thought that the light ahead was merely a mirage of the long-set moon. It wavered and flickered in my sight, and I determined to ignore it; it was further into the desert, and if it proved unreal, I could have a difficult, hot trip back across the sands to the highway. My eyes returned to it time and again, though, and I spurred Maricela off the road just a little for a closer look. Perhaps it was real after all?

Undecided, I turned to return to the road, and my vision blurred for a moment. I yawned, suddenly overcome with weariness, and reminded that I had been traveling for some time. I peered back at the light, squinting as if it would give up its secrets if only I stared hard enough. After a moment, I yawned and blinked again, and sighed. A night in the cooling desert, or a night with some other rancher or missionary; it was all the same to me so long as I had my self and my freedom. And what was a life without a chance or two taken?

As I rode closer, the light grew, and I could determine it was no mirage; a structure took slow shape around it, stone and adobe reflecting dully in the circle of light, the bulk of it barely visible against the dark night sky. Seeing the building made it seem strangely less real; there were no other lights save the one I could see now came from the doorway, and only the lack of stars served to show where the walls ended and the sky began.

Maricela snorted and tossed her head lightly, and I realized I had fallen into a kind of doze on her back, staring at the place. I was now close enough to make out the edges of the door, the sconces to either side of it lit in welcome. I shook myself awake, and I think I would have turned back, even then - but a shadow moved over the light, and a woman like none I had ever seen stepped into my view.

Her hair escaped from the edges of an odd, tight cap in loose dark ringlets, falling no further than her chin, but she did not look to have been ill. Her smooth skin was a shade or two darker than mine, the shade I remembered my mother’s as being, but her eyes, heavily rimmed in black, were a light hazel. _Mulata_ I guessed from her features, rather than _india_. Those eyes drew me in, promising secrets and joy, and she smiled. It was too young and innocent a smile to be seductive, and yet I was seduced, and found myself smiling in answer. Almost, I did not notice the rest of her, so captivating was her face. And then I did notice, and my hand twitched as I fought the desire to cross myself.

She was beautiful, her body matching her face. Her skin was smooth and young; perhaps very young, for she had little to show of feminine curves, her figure closer to that of an athletic youth. All of which I could see easily; the whores I had met in the cities showed less of their skin than did she! The dress that she wore left her arms free and did not come to her knees, and shone like gold in the torchlight as it clung to her.

High above and seeming far-off, a bell tolled, more musical than any mission bell I had heard before, deep and sonorous. The girl struck a match and lit a candle, its flame highlighting her face in gold. She held out her hand to me, and she seemed too beautiful and pure to be a devil, too earthy for an angel. Without thinking, I found myself standing before her, and I took her hand and let her lead me in.

  


 _March 15_

 _Or so I suppose it to be; I have only just awoken and have seen neither window nor timepiece. It could, I suppose, be the evening yet of the fourteenth, or I could have slept through until the sixteenth, as unlikely as that might be._

 _The room I have been given in this place is not what I would have expected. But then, nothing I have seen in this place is what I would have expected! I am still uncertain where I am; neither the woman who showed me the way here nor the others we passed spoke to me, and I was, I confess, too dumbfounded to say a thing to them. I would have said it was completely silent, save that I believe I heard voices in the distance. I tried to listen, and I thought I heard them welcoming me, but I could not be certain._

 _Even now, I hear them calling in the distance, but when I open the door to listen, they are still no closer. Perhaps it is merely an odd echo of the place, added to my desire for a place where I will be welcome._

 __  


I tidied myself up in the washbasin, looking once more around the room I had spent the night in. The bed was large and well-appointed, the blankets rich and without wear. The fire still burned hot against the cold of the desert night, though I could not remember feeding it, nor any servant waking me by entering to do so. I still do not know if it is a particularly quiet servant who does these things, or if it is merely the nature of the place. The heavy desk and chair were better than in my father’s study. It did not seem to belong to anyone — a guest room, without a doubt, but so fine?

I opened the door and stepped into the hallway; I was concerned I might not be able to find my way back to the entrance, but I should not have worried. The way to my room had seemed so roundabout last night, but it was only a minute until I found myself standing once more in the entry. I marveled anew at it; in the light of the lady’s candle it had seemed mysterious and cozy, but now I saw it was worthy of a grand hacienda — the ceiling rose high above me, heavy and warmly appointed chairs offered tempting seats, and rich tapestries graced the walls. If I were to have a home, I would want it to be precisely this.

I frowned, sensing something wrong about the room, but unable to place it for a moment. Then I realized — although I knew that this room must face the outside, there were no windows on the walls, nothing to let in the breeze or the sunshine. Still, I told myself, perhaps it is sensible, with the winds from the desert so close. Undoubtedly there were other rooms, in more sheltered places, that opened onto the sky.

Then I paused there, a chill running down my spine. _Where was the light coming from?_

There was the sound of soft laughter behind me, and I turned to see that same lady again. Her dress this morning was a little longer and looser, almost like a young girl’s shift, and painted in swirls of light color that set off her skin. Her hair curled tightly against her cheeks and neck, seeming even shorter than it had before. Her eyes were the same, though, and danced with mischief. I bowed politely to her, and she nodded back as grave as a lord, something bright flashing in her eyes.

Whatever it was, I determined to be polite as befitted a guest. “Lady…” I paused, uncertain who was to thank for the hospitality I had been shown. “My thanks to all here,” I decided upon.

She nodded, but said nothing in reply, only smiling. She stepped close and laid her hand upon my face; her skin was warm as the desert sands just after sunset, and she smelled of flowers and the sea, of tobacco and tequila and something else, something darker that I could not place. I could feel her nearness and was uncomfortably aware of her scanty clothing.

I firmly reminded myself of her youth and my status as a guest, and nodded in return, stepping smoothly back. “I should be on my way, Lady. If you would be so kind as to have my animals and cart fetched?”

Her lips twisted in something less than a smile, and she turned with a gesture. I followed behind her back through the twisting passages. The torches were unlit in favor of what should have been morning sunlight, though I still could see no windows or other openings through which such light could be coming, and my unease grew. It seemed rude to question my hosts, however, and so I held my tongue until she led me through a door and to the stables. If only I had held it for a moment longer; _La curiosidad mató al gato!_ I might have been left to wonder and yet _left_. But the stables were unlike any I had seen before, richly appointed and clean, their beams of the quality you would see in a palace, and the floor smooth and shiny beneath the straw.

“What is this place?” I flushed as soon as I spoke, bowing in apology for my rudeness, but the girl smiled in delight and wrapped her arms around me, even as I startled backwards.

“Would you like to see?” she murmured in my ear.

  


 _15 March_

 _This place is much larger than I had at first realized. Although I had guessed it to be much the same as any mission or hacienda, the halls she has shown me seem but a small part of the structure, and I wonder if I shall ever see it all. And such a place! There are rooms here with furniture such as I have never seen — twisted vines of metal and wood, gilded and inlaid with precious stones. We sat upon a divan with a back like dragonflies with wings intertwined, and she called for food and fed me tender meat and succulent berries. There was a machine in the corner like a large gear, and she put a black disk upon it — and it played music! I was astonished, but she laughed (not unkindly) and hinted that there were greater wonders in store._

 _There seem to be more people here than I would have guessed at my first night; the voices are more distinct, and I have now met both the young boy who cared for the animals and the man and women who brought our food (she named the man Captain of the household, so I think he is perhaps a sort of concierge)._

 _When we had eaten and she had shown me more of the place, we did at last pass by a window, and I was astonished to see it was night already, though I would have sworn I had not slept so long! So it was too late this evening to start out, and they seem quite happy for me to stay another evening, and so I shall._

  


It was not until the following evening that I at last began to see something of the true nature of this place. I had wandered for some little time through the halls, but had not seen the girl who had been my host so far. There seemed more people in the passageways by the hour, but they paid little attention to me, though most nodded and smiled happily enough. The place itself was grand and yet homey, more welcoming and yet otherwise no different from any of the mansions in the city, and I could not find the odd rooms with their odder appointments that I had seen earlier. After a time, I found a seat in a chair that looked eerily like one I had left behind in my father’s house, and simply watched the people pass.

They wore a bewildering array of clothing; some I would swear were ten or fifty years out of date, and others, like the girl’s, seemed barely clothing at all. There were those in rough workers’ clothing, and those in good cloth as of merchants, and those that dressed like royalty; and some of the workers carried themselves with the assurance of commanders, and some of the royalty slouched and told crass jokes. Some were dark as _los negros_ straight from Africa, and others were pale as the Dutch merchant that sometimes sold pottery in the city. Many were _castizo_ or _mestizo_ , if I could guess correctly. I spotted even a man and girl from the far Orient. And none seemed to hold themselves to only their class, but moved and spoke freely among each other.

It was there the girl found me, my head spinning; she smiled and laughed and pulled me up. “Come! Join the party!” She pulled me by the hand quickly back through the rooms — and here were the places she had shown me the day before; how could I have missed them? — and I found her enthusiasm infectious, and could not help but laugh with her as we emerged in a courtyard. I had, I think, dimly glimpsed this place the night before, but had not realized the extent of it. It sat open to the night air, a cool breeze stirring the tree fronds and the hair and clothes of the people there; I lifted my head and breathed deeply and laughed again, filled with happiness.

She pulled me into the crowd, and such a crowd it was! They glittered and spun, the wild array of clothing I had seen before replaced by an equally dizzying variety of brightly colored dancing costume. Some wore masks and ball gowns; others were in little more than what I would have said were underclothes, save that they reflected back the light in sharp edges. Others still seemed to generate their own soft glow. Music was playing, though whether a band out of sight or another machine such as she had shown me, I could not say. Above the crowd, cords like vines stretched between the trees, and lights shone along their length, giving even more of an otherworldly air to the scene. She gave me no time to wonder, though. “Come!” she called again. “Meet my friends!”

She ran off, and I followed, and we stopped by a knot of people that seemed to be trying to outshine the lights. She hugged one of them, laughing, and he hugged back and kissed her with more than friendly enthusiasm. He turned to me, smirking at my astonishment.

“Delicious.” He looked me up and down, and my surprise and discomfort intensified. He winked and laughed. “Don’t look like that, beautiful man.” He took me by the arm and brought me into their circle.

“My name is Andrea.” I swallowed and tried to ignore the way his fingers stroked the inside of my arm.

“Lovely.” He smiled at the girl. “You find us the prettiest ones!”

“Only the best for us!” She laughed and kissed my cheek.

“And does he dance?” he asked her, but arched an eyebrow at me.

“I don’t know yet.” She twined her arms around my neck. “Do you dance?”

She drew me towards her, moving her hips to the music as she took up my hand. My other lifted to her waist automatically, but she stepped even closer. It was no dance I knew, and seemed almost indecent, but I was beginning to learn that nothing in this place conformed to the standards I had learned all of my life. She moved her arm about my hip, and I bent my arm to avoid any additional rudeness. Then there was a warm chuckle in my ear, and her friend pressed up against me from behind, his hand joining mine.

He moved our hands to her back, pulling her against me. “Like this. And your legs either side of hers.” My eyes widened as he positioned me, but she just smiled, moving with me.

“It seems he does dance.” Her eyes sparkled up at me and her small breasts pressed against me, her dark skin reflecting all the colors of the lights.

“He does,” came the agreement from behind, purred into my ear. I shivered, and felt him smile as he pressed me between them, his lips against my neck.

My head spun as we moved together. I tore my eyes from hers to glance around, but we were paid little attention, and when we were looked at, it held no censure. I could not have pretended to understand, but it was difficult not to relax and enjoy myself, even then, and after a while I found myself smiling, moving easily between them.

The lady took a plate from a dancer next to us, smiling and kissing him, and I noticed several such platters being passed among the crowd. She teased a bite of meat from it and fed it to me; it was tender and delicious, though I could not place the taste. I took another piece and held it out to her, and she ate it from my fingers delicately, her tongue flicking out to catch the juices. I held another piece, but she shook her head and smiled, nodding at the man behind me. He leaned forward with a smile, and I hesitated for a moment, then held it for him. He took the tips of my fingers between his teeth gently before tugging at the meat, and my breath quickened.

It was still very early spring, I knew it, but the night air spoke of summer, and their skin spoke of promise, and I could not say which of these made me warmer. The bodies close around us made it seem almost more private, cozy, a time and place for secrets and intimacy.

We spun over the stone of the courtyard, laughing and dancing. When next the food came to us, I turned to the man behind me, only to realize he was not the same. This boy was just as beautiful, however, and he laughed at my confusion as he ate from my hand and kissed my cheek.

Though we danced for some time, I never grew tired. Nor did any of the others seem to. It could have been five minutes or five hours — or perhaps five years — until we fell into a pile of cushions in an alcove overlooking the revel. The lady kissed me and one of the boys ran his hands through my hair, and we stretched out, touching gently.

I was still bemused at their intimacies, but I could not find it in myself to worry overmuch. Instead, I rolled over, my head propped on a pillow, to stare into the sky. I could see no stars, but the strings of lights twinkled in their stead, soothing.

“I remember this one party,” a voice to my left spoke. I looked over at the man; he had pale skin and hair, and eyes the color of the desert sky, and his voice was rich. He grinned at me and stretched, his head in another boy’s lap. He kicked one of the others, who laughed in protest and slapped his feet. “It was great; just me and my friends and this one girl…” He grinned. “We had a bong, though.”

A man with long, dark hair like an _indio_ of the desert laughed and rolled his eyes at him. “So if you’re missing that, go get it. Hey, Captain!”

“Yes, sir?” I blinked, startled — I was certain the man had not been there a moment ago!

“Hey, you got any pot?”

“Of course, sir.” He nodded and headed off. Whatever it was he’d gone to get, the others seemed satisfied for the moment.

“Still in the nineteen-sixties?” a new voice chimed in.

“Hey, I like ‘em,” the blond protested. He grinned over his head at the one who had spoken. I followed his gaze and recoiled.

At first glance it was a man, but his eyes were pure black from lid to lid, and his skin was smooth and glistened. Thin metallic braid ran like veins over his neck and disappeared beneath the high collar of his jacket, and a tall silk hat perched on his hairless head.

I crossed myself and pushed backwards out of the pile of flesh, and if the…man? answered, I did not hear it. I fled into the building, and though I heard them calling after me, I found my room and bolted the door.

  


 _16 March_

 _What was that thing? A demon? No man has eyes and skin like that! And yet they treated it as any other man, and did not seem to care! They do not seem to care about much of anything but pleasure and beauty. And yet…is that a bad thing? I would have said not, a few weeks ago. Or perhaps even yesterday. Was it yesterday I arrived here?_

 _I look back through this book and I see that it was two days ago. It seems so difficult to keep account of time in this place — I still have seen no timepiece here, and it comes to me now that I have never seen outside but when it was dark. I am supposing each day to be the time between waking and sleeping, but perhaps it is all the same night? Surely not._

 _And yet now, having seen that…thing…I am ready to doubt nothing! I certainly understand nothing. I still do not know what manner of place this is, or who the people in it are. I realize now that I know none of their names, nor have heard any of them address each other by them. How is it I could not have noticed earlier?_

 _There comes a knock now on my door. Do I dare to open it? Perhaps I would be better off staying here until the morning — if such a time comes! — when I can leave._

  


Despite what might have been my better judgement, I determined it was cowardly and rude not to answer the door; after all, these people had shown me nothing but kindness so far. I do not know who I expected, but the knock revealed neither the man-who-was-not nor the girl who had accompanied me so far, but the Captain. He smiled politely and handed me a note that smelled of her, then bowed and left.

The paper was light, almost transparent, and her handwriting curved and twirled, reminding me of the dancers. There were only four words: _Come and meet me._

I frowned down the hallway after the Captain; there was no indication of where she wanted to meet me, and I could not yet bring myself to return to the courtyard. I closed the door behind me and hurried after the Captain’s upright back. He turned a corner and I quickened my step, but when I reached there, he was gone. I paused and looked around, but before I could grow suspicious or frightened again, I heard the lady’s laughter ahead, and followed it.

That sound led me through the halls, echoing strangely, and I would have turned back; almost, I did — but when I turned to go, it grew louder, and the other voices joined it, cheering and urging me on, and I went. At last I came to a large, heavy door, and I could hear the laughter and voices behind it.

I turned the latch and threw it open. The wind blew in my hair, and I smelled the sea; grass and loose stone crunched beneath my feet. The lady stood there, alone. I knew it was she, and yet she seemed different. Older, no longer a girl; the promise of her earlier beauty had blossomed. She wore the curves of a woman, and her dress though it reached her feet clung to them, accentuating rather than hiding anything. Her hair had been combed from its ringlets and fell in gentle waves to her shoulders, turning under. Surely it had not been so long before?

I should have worried, should have crossed myself yet again, should have wondered at what power could so change her in so little time. But it seemed merely _right_ , and her beauty struck me dumb again, and I could not bring myself to think of anything else.

“You wandered off.” She smiled and stepped close, as close as when we had been dancing. “I thought maybe you didn’t like my friends.”

I stammered a response, stuck between politeness and truth. She laughed and kissed me. “They’ll wait for another evening. Come on — this is one of my favorite places.”

She pulled me behind her, a place I should surely have been used to by now, and led me up a hill. Behind us, the light from the door I’d come through poured over the grass; in the distance, I could hear a wisp of music that might have been the dance. She led me to the top of the hill, where an odd contraption sat, curved metal and glass. It had wheels as though to move, though they were made of no substance I could place. The midsection of it looked almost like an open carriage, and seemed clearly designed to carry people rather than cargo.

She chuckled and kissed my forehead. “No frowning! Get in!” She nodded at it, then looked at me coquettishly. “Open the door for a lady?”

I found the handle and did so, and she slid into one of the long seats. I followed, and she leaned against me. “I love this old thing. And do you see that view?”

She gestured out over the hill, and I looked. There still were no stars I could see, but below us the valley — _had there been a valley on the maps?_ — sparkled with lights that would have rivaled any that showed their faces.

Then she turned again and smiled at me. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Very,” I answered, though I was no longer looking at the lights.

  


 _18 March_

 _I no longer know why I am dating these entries. It could as easily be the 18th of June, or the 20th of November. But something in me suggests that I must; that if I forget the time it should be, I will lose more than my knowledge of the calendar. When I am with her — I still do not know her name! — or with one of her “friends”, the time slips away from me. It does not matter that it is never light. Or that I do not know their names. Or that the building seems to change depending on who I am speaking with._

 _They speak of things I do not understand, they behave in ways that should shame them, and they cause **me** to do and think things that I should be ashamed of. More than that, when I am with them, **I do not care** about any of this. Their clothing and manners seem increasingly familiar. I laugh and speak with them and I enjoy their company. That man with the black eyes — an “android” he called himself, and when I spoke to him, I knew what that meant, though I do not recall it now. He seemed friendly and not at all unnatural, and it was the easiest thing in the world to kiss him as any of the others._

 _My god! Even writing it now, my a cold flush runs over me, and my hands are shaking. I must leave this place!_

  


I sat for a moment and trembled, and nearly lay down to rest for the evening. I could leave in the morning, as soon as possible. Then I sucked in a breath and shook myself, eyes wide. There would _be_ no morning in this place. I was somehow certain of that. If I were to leave, it must be _now_.

I threw my belongings into my bags and wrapped my coat around myself, then snuffed the lamp and strode from the room. I made my way through the hallways as fast as I could, heading for the stables. I soon realized, however, that I was lost, much to my chagrin. Surely it had been just down this passage? Frustrated, I called for the Captain; he was never far, though how he managed that I was not sure. I was not sure of much at all about this place, except for my need to leave, which I clung to with desperation.

“Yes, sir?” He stood by politely, as unflappable as ever.

I turned to face him. “I wish to be shown to the stables.”

“Of course, sir.” He bowed and turned, and I followed him. It occurred to me briefly that I should not be so trusting; surely he would not willingly help me leave? But then, why should he not? I was no prisoner, nor had he shown me anything but polite and competent service.

He turned down a hall that I must have missed in my haste, and a few feet further were large wooden doors that he opened to reveal the stables. I strode into them with a sigh of relief and looked around.

“Your animals are here, sir.” He led me further along the stalls, and I smiled to see Maricela well-cared-for and the mule next to her.

I stepped up to her and patted her nose, tugging gently at her mane and talking to her in the nonsense most men speak to their horses. It was not until I looked for her saddle that I frowned, tensing again. The Captain stood there expectantly, and I barked at him, “Where is her saddle?”

“Her saddle, sir?” He smiled. “I’m sure I don’t know. Why would she need one?”

I set my jaw. “Because, I am leaving.” He looked at me as though he didn’t understand, and I was suddenly struck with a desire to wipe that smile from his face. In a moment, I was upon him, pinning him to the wall, my hands in his lapels. “I am getting out of this place, now! You will bring me her saddle, and my cart and the harnesses, and the barrels that were in it, and I am going out that door and leaving!”

He smiled, and it seemed almost wistful. “Ah, sir. Such spirit you have! It will be some time until I will have seen your like.” He patted my shoulder.

As I tried to work out what he had said, I caught movement from the corner of my eye. I turned to look, and it was the woman again. She was all long, dark limbs, arms and legs free of fabric; her dress was colors that hurt my eyes, and covered less than any I had seen so far. Her hair floated around her like a cloud, and her face was painted. My hand on the Captain faltered, and she smiled and stepped up to me. “Come on. Let’s…talk.”

I resisted, shaking my head. “My apologies, lady. I —”

She laughed low and kissed me full on the lips, her body melting against mine. “Your horse isn’t going anywhere without you.”

I turned to look at Maricela, and she tossed her head at me over the door to her stall. Had there been a door there before? I had not paid great attention, but surely the floor had been dirt?

The lady laughed again and kissed me. “Come on.” She stayed pressed against me as we moved, more a dance than a walk, but one in which she led. We turned a corner I was certain had not been there before, and I gave up trying to determine where we were. She opened a door onto a room bedecked in red velvet and gilt, and laughed as she pushed me down onto a round bed. I gasped as it yielded and moved, and then she straddled me and the movement pushed me against her, and I groaned.

“Open your eyes,” she whispered at me, and I obeyed, not realizing I had closed them. I stared at her face, those transfixing eyes and that luscious mouth, but she shook her head and smiled mischievously. “Look up.”

My eyes widened; above her were a series of mirrors, fixed to the ceiling. They reflected myself back at me, the woman on top of me sliding lower and slipping my buttons free as she did so. I flushed, and she breathed against my stomach. “Just enjoy yourself. That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

Was it? I was certain, there was something else, something I had meant to do… Her tongue snaked out and tasted the crease of my thigh, and all thought fled. I held to her as she revealed me to my own gaze, stripped me bare on that strange bed, and showed me things I had not known and was not certain that I wanted to. She took me apart with her tongue and teeth, then mounted and rode me as if demanding my pleasure. I shouted in joy as I came, but tears leaked from my eyes.

When we had finished, I lay there, sated but curiously unsatisfied; I still hungered for her body, hungered to be one with her. I ached sharply, and I knew that it should not be long until I was ready again, though I was no longer in the first blush of youth.

She leaned over me and took up a bottle of wine; the cork popped from it with great force, and she poured it, bubbling over, into a tall glass. Its color seemed to reflect the bed, or perhaps it was intrinsic to the odd beverage. She sipped it and turned the glass so that I should drink from the same place she had.

We lay there, drinking, and I stared at myself in the mirrors. Did I truly wish to leave this place, where there were such wonders as I had seen? Such wonders as she was? I felt myself smiling, and could see myself content. Who would have thought when I was in such trouble as… I frowned. I had been in trouble. There had been scandal, had there not? And…my father. He…

I struggled to recall, my breath growing quick and shallow. The lady smiled and slid closer, but I pushed her away and scrambled from the bed. “No! I will not stay! It is wrong, this place!”

She laughed. “Wrong? What’s wrong about it?” She gestured at the room, and I forced myself to recall its oddness. This was not how a room should look, not how a woman should act, not how anything was supposed to be. “Aren’t you happy?”

“I — “ I nodded, then stepped back again, searching for my trousers. “No! You would have me lose myself, but I know! I am…I am Gerardo Andrea Ignacio Luis de la Cruz y Tonantzin — ” how I have always hated my father’s attempts to shove me into his _peninsular_ mold, as if there were nothing more to me than a man of old Spain, but at that moment I cherished every last syllable, “— and you will not make me forget!”

She sighed and looked at me as if I were an errant child. She slid from the bed and pulled clean clothing from a wardrobe, handing it to me. She pulled on loose trousers herself, as if she were a man, and straightened her hair with her fingers so that it fell in short curls, as the first night we met. “I’m not asking you to forget, silly man. None of us _forget_. Well, not for long.” She smiled and moved toward me, but I stepped back, putting on the clothes she had handed me. They were not mine, but they were better than nothing.

She sat on a chair, her head in her hand, and looked up at me. “Will you come back to bed?” I set my jaw stubbornly, and she shook her head. “You can’t forget. I don’t want you to forget. Some of us have to remember; there wouldn’t be any point, otherwise.”

“And what is the point?” My clothes seemed to be missing, but I found a coat in the wardrobe and pulled it on; it fell past my knees and was a heavy dark wool with a large collar. It would serve. “To waylay travelers and trap them here? Are you devils?”

“We’re human.” She shrugged. “And we don’t trap anyone but ourselves.”

“I see. And so you will let me go now?” Somehow, even as I said it, I knew it would not be that easy.

“I’m not keeping you here.” She spread her hands and smiled again. “All that keeps you here is yourself. That is all that keeps any of us here.”

“In that case, I am leaving.” I finished dressing and headed for the door.

She intercepted me, laying hands on my shoulders. “Do you want to? Do you truly want to?” I faltered, and she sensed it, I think, for she smiled. “We are all prisoners here, but only of our own devising.”

“No.” I swallowed and shook my head. I could not even remember why it was so important, not when she held me, but I needed to go. I would be a prisoner to no-one, not even to myself! I pulled myself together and bowed stiffly to her. “Good-bye, Lady.”

She watched me go, and I hurried off, heading in the direction I had come from earlier. I found my room again with little difficulty, only then realizing I had left my baggage in the stables. No matter; I would need to find them again in any event, for I would not get far without Maricela at the least. It would do me little good to leave this place only to die in the desert!

I hurried that direction, determined not to lose myself in the warren again. I ignored the walls and the sconces, no longer comforted by their familiarity. Others passed by me, but I ignored them, too, refusing their distractions, until one caught me. I looked up from the hand on my arm, to find the black-eyed android staring at me curiously. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” He slung one arm around my shoulders. “Come, you’ll miss the fun!”

“No, thank you.” I stepped quickly away. “I am leaving.”

“Leaving where?” He cocked his head at me.

“Leaving _here_!”

He raised an eyebrow at me, then shrugged. “You’ll need food to take with you.”

I stared at him, suspicious. “You won’t tell me I can’t leave?”

“Why should I?” He smiled. “Will you believe me?”

“No.” I scowled.

“Well, there you are.” He put an arm around me again. “Come, we’ll head up to the feast and get you some food. For the trip, if you like.”

I faltered. Something in me fought, saying that I should not delay, but he was right — no matter where I was heading, I would need some food. And the food here was quite good, the quality of the meat and drink such as I had never tasted before. Some of that in my bags would be a welcome change from dried fruit and salted beef. I let him lead me away, through hallways grown wider and dimmer. The wide staircase we took had the color and grain of fine wood, but shone oddly, and the walls themselves gave off a light of subtly changing colors, changing and swirling as he touched them.

We came to large, gilded doors; they seemed to have been molded rather than carved, with intricate designs of the natural world, worn in places to a smoothness that obliterated their subject, and in others sharp as if created yesterday. I instinctively knew that this was an important place, the seat perhaps of some of the power and strangeness that resided here. My companion touched them lightly and they swung open, and we strode in on a crowd as large as that I had seen in the courtyard. They stood or sat or reclined on sofas; around them, long tables groaned under the weight of the food.

My friend smoothly snatched a piece of meat and bread from a nearby table, and he fed it to me. I smiled and licked the juice from his fingers, and picked up another piece myself. I found a cloth and wrapped a bit of bread in it, then some cheese and fruit that I found. The meat should go in another one, I decided, and set action to thought.

I relaxed as we moved through the chamber, my friend passing me tidbits as we went. Perhaps, I thought, it would not be so bad to stay here, at least for a time. The company was friendly, the food was delicious, and I was comfortable. Had I not wanted a place where I could start anew? If it were perhaps a trifle…odd, was that such a bad thing?

I noticed a cheerful knot of commotion at one end of the chamber, and stretched to see, trying to get closer.

“Ah.” My companion nodded, seeing my interest. “There is the freshest meat.”

Fresher than what we had eaten already? I found my mouth watering in anticipation, and I wove through the crowd in that direction.

There were so many clustered around that at first I could not tell what I was seeing. It looked to be a large animal, larger even than a cow, lying upon the table, its skin mottled and glistening. I realized a moment later that there was no table; whatever it was, it was truly massive. Nor could I see any head or other sign of what it might be; it most resembled a large worm, or perhaps a squid, for I thought I could perhaps see appendages that were tentacle more than leg.

I swallowed uneasily; around it, the crowd sliced its sides and pulled away the meat, and I could see that this was the same meat we had been eating my entire time here. Now seeing its source, my stomach rumbled in hunger, and I reached for my knife, steadying myself against the great beast’s side.

My heart leapt into my throat when I touched it. I could not believe — it was not possible! But its flank rose and fell beneath my hand, and as I looked on in increasing fright, I could see one of its appendages _move_. I swallowed down bile and stumbled away, throwing my bundles of food far from me. _The thing was alive!_

I ran from the room, heedless of those around me, and made it to the doors before I was violently ill. My entire body heaved and I sobbed, wishing to rid myself of all of it, of the meat I had been eating for long evenings and the drinking and the sex and the changing walls. I heard the black-eyed man behind me, calling for me, but I ran again, back through hallways and rooms that seemed to shift even as I passed them. I had to leave!

  


 _There is no time in this place. I will not pretend. Every moment is the first and the last, and no matter what the lady said to me, I know that I am a prisoner here. I have searched through the place for the rooms where I entered, and I despaired I would never find them. Then I did, and I wish I had not! There was no door. I have scoured this place in every direction that I could go, and yet the only doors or windows I find open on other places surrounded by these cursed walls._

 _The android — and I know again what that means now — found me weeping in a corner. He sat beside me, smiling. “There, you see?” he said. “Nobody leaves here. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? No heartbreak, no death, no worrying.” He grinned and wrapped an arm around here. “If it gets to be too much, just sleep for a while. Or you could try the drugs; you might enjoy them.” He laughed. “Checking out, they call it. The only kind you get in this place.”_

  


So I was told. I have never been one to take another’s word on things of this importance, however, and I stubbornly set about finding out for myself. I avoided the others, finding that when I spoke to no-one, the walls and rooms soon reverted to the styles I was used to. I found my way to the courtyard, and forgot why; I danced to the walls and remembered, and climbed them toward the starless sky above. There was only the empty desert outside the walls, and my heart leapt, but though I desperately fought, I could not make myself move toward it; instead my mind returned each time to the revelry below and how welcome it would be. But one thing I noted before I dropped back into the courtyard — there were birds flying overhead.

  


 _It has taken some time. It is so difficult to remember that I wish to leave! I must hurry, before I forget entirely. Perhaps I cannot leave on my own, but I must send word. Surely there is someone who would come for me, if not for my own sake than to rid this place of the evil that surely inhabits it! And if there is not, at the least I shall warn others from entering it as I have! If birds and (as I have also seen) small animals can leave, then I believe that something larger can. Maricela can._

  


I found the stables again; I am beginning to learn the trick of moving through this place. They were once more normal stables, or at least appeared to be, and I led Maricela from her stall. I found a blanket and cast it over her, then set my diary and a letter of warning in my bags and secured them over that. I stroked her nose, sending a prayer to San Francisco de Asís and to my mother and her protectors. Then I led her from the stables to the outside door. As on the roof, I could not overcome my reluctance to leave, but I murmured encouragement into her ear, and slapped her rump and sent her on her way.

I watched her go with a mixture of hope and sadness and fear, until I lost sight of her.

“She’s beautiful.” The stables shifted around me, becoming an open field with hard-packed dirt, and a small girl stood smiling at me. She wore a dress of fringed skin and her face spoke of pure _indio_ heritage. “Where is she going?”

“Someplace else.” I nodded uneasily at her and felt her eyes on me as I entered the building again.

  


 _I have found another book here to write my thoughts in. I am learning, there is nothing you cannot find here if you want it and look for it. Well, nothing worth having. My friends found me, the lady and the night-eyed gentleman, and they kissed me and led me to a lush room paneled in wood with silk and velvet coverlets. They lay me down in there, and we learned each other, and then lay tangled together in comfort._

 _“You sent your mare away,” she said; she did not seem surprised._

 _“Yes,” I answered. It did not seem important now, but I remembered that I had done it._

 _“Good.” She smiled and pressed closer. “Not very many people simply find us like you did. It helps if they know where to look.”_

  


.

  


 _When you're trying to find a place, “up in the hills, not far from the desert” isn’t exactly much to go on in Southern California. Most folks would say I'm nuts for even trying. But USC is boring and pointless; there are important things happening out in the world_ now _! There's Vietnam and kids in another college getting_ killed _, and why the hell should I care about what some idiot settlers did over a hundred years ago, or what the past tense of a verb in a language that nobody speaks anymore is?_

Most of my college was a haze of trying to make it through and play nice. And then I read that book — I carry it with me, my good luck totem. It isn't anything special, just another textbook. Letters and things that some history prof thought were useful. I didn't think much of them until I got halfway through. Then I read this diary — only pieces of the words were left — and my mouth went dry and other parts got interested. Whatever this guy had found, it tugged at my mind, and I needed to know more. At a friend's party one night, high as a kite, I resolved to find the place, if it was real.

And I stuck it out, too; searched almost a month and found nothing. My roommate was beginning to get touchy about me grabbing his bike most nights. And if I didn't get pneumonia, it'd be a miracle; I only had the one jacket — fine in the city, but a bit too flimsy in the hills. I stopped the bike to blow on my hands for warmth, and squinted. Was that a light up ahead? I yawned, debating; the bike wouldn’t go over the sand, so it'd be a bit of a trek. But hell, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? I left the bike on the road and struck out.

The light rippled then stayed steady, and I could see it was a door. A shadow moved across it, and I shielded my eyes until I could make out a form. The man smiled at me, his dark hair and tanned skin captivating. He turned without a word and beckoned, and I stepped inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to all the people who helped me! Most especially azn_jack_fiend, and also Summerstorm and Truth and Aris and Lionpyh and I'm afraid I've forgotten another person's name, and all the ones who held my hand and read things over and listened to me whine about trying to find out when rubber tires and phonographs were invented and what the geography of California looked like over 100 years ago. Any mistakes left are entirely mine.
> 
> The title comes (sort of) from a poem I found and liked, ["Among These Ruins", by Coral Bracho](http://www.poetrytranslation.org/poems/252/Among_These_Ruins/original). I also owe an incredible depth of gratitude to a ton of sites about the Mexican caste system and Mexican-American history, in which my schooling was sadly lacking!


End file.
